


seeing the past in you

by BestOfOne



Series: seeing the past in you [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Flashbacks, Getting Together, I can’t tag, Idiots in confusion, M/M, Not Beta Read, PTSD, Past Relationship(s), Post-Blind Betrayal, Protectiveness, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Nothing, Will add tags as I go, also probably love, and everything at once, kind of?, self-neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24100831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestOfOne/pseuds/BestOfOne
Summary: (Set a year after the end of Fallout 4, with changes to the Minutemen ending. Nate manages to come to an agreement with the Institute and forms an alliance.)Danse knows he is his own person or thing, or whatever. Knows that he is not bound to anything, not even the Brotherhood. But even a year after the big surprise, the ideals haven’t left. He shouldn’t have been allowed to live.Enter onto the stage a 7 foot fall off a house in Sanctuary, an angry mob, and one concerned prewar veteran. Maybe Danse’s life is worth more than he thinks it is.
Relationships: Cutler & Paladin Danse (Fallout), Male Sole Survivor & Piper Wright, Paladin Danse & Male Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Male Sole Survivor, Preston Garvey & Sole Survivor, Robert Joseph MacCready & Male Sole Survivor
Series: seeing the past in you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778119
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Falling into Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some physical knocking around manages to unveil some hidden ‘Nate-Detector’ in Danse, while Nate is probably slowly falling apart.

It wasn't a big deal. Just a small fall outside of his suit. So why did it feel like his head was knocked loose? 

Nate was more concerned than he was, for no reason. It wasn't like he fell of the Kingsport Lighthouse and knocked his head on the rocky shore. No, it was literally off of a roof in Sanctuary that they were repairing. He wasn't paying attention—his thoughts stuck on something else— when he fell. 

Nate was having a hard enough time trying to get the repairs done before the colder months came upon them. More and more people were flooding in, hearing great things about the settlement near the previously unknown vault entrance. Danse himself saw how much work he'd already put into Sanctuary, providing for the people. Sometimes, at the cost of himself. For once, he wanted to do something for Nate. 

"Let me bring someone to take a look at you, please," just a few feet. It was fine. After the big revealing of his true nature, Danse tended to brush things like this completely away. He wasn't entirely made of squishiness and blood. 

"I'm fine. Let's finish that roof today, and we can worry tomorrow." 

And against Nate's wishes, they were back on the roof again. But this time, Nate worked around the edges while Danse was pushed a little more to the center. 

That didn't matter, because as they worked, Danse began to feel a shift. Not physically, no. The roofing stayed underneath him and the sky above, so he was still present and functioning. But every single move Nate made, even if it was twisting a nail or lifting the hammer, he could almost sense it. 

Like the entirety of his being was then made to focus on the man. And that he did. He didn't notice as his hands stopped working on his portion, instead waiting and then begin working again but this time, in sync with Nate. His hearing was no longer focused on the environment, but rather Nate's tired and labored breathing. His eyes were glued to him, never straying as they continued to piece together the roof.

Every time he tried to take his eyes away, he felt his body refocusing yet again. Eventually, they did manage to finish the roof before nightfall, and departed to their separate quarters before meeting again at the cantina that Nate set up. 

As they ate their blamco mac and cheese (Nate more so than him), Nate continued to relay plans for future projects and tasks for the minutemen. All throughout this, Danse tried his best to focus on his words, he really did. But the way Nate would fiddle with his fork as he spoke distracted him. Even the sounds of the words kept throwing him off. 

"I think tonight I'll turn in early," was all he said after Nate finished talking. 

"Does your head hurt?" He shook his head, gathering his items before getting up to return them to the kitchen portion of the room. 

"It's not that, I just want to wake up earlier. If I get a head start, maybe I can help you with more work," it wasn't a complete lie. He'd planned to do that tonight, even if this whole falling incident didn't happen. 

"No, you said you'd get checked out tomorrow," he had that determined look in his eyes. With what he's told Danse about his past, it's understandable that he wants to keep his friends safe. 

"Then I'll do that, and then I'll help you. We both know I'm still up to standard, and you're going to tire yourself out if you keep working alone." 

"Nothing I can't handle." 

"You shouldn't have to," _not alone._ Danse schools his face into something serious, something that leaves no room for negotiation. He's successful just this once. 

"Fine. But if there's anything wrong, you're going on immediate sick leave from everything and Curie is going to look after you." 

"Alright. Goodnight," is all he says as he leaves. 

When he crosses the threshold and into the darkness of the night, something low in his belly tells him to go back. To walk into the cantina again and make sure Nate gets back into his own quarters safe. But he doesn't, and knows he probably shouldn't. 

The trek back to the house his room is in isn't particularly long, but gives him time to think. If he is damaged, would Nate keep him around? Or will he banish him back to the bunker? Will he be a danger?

As he readied himself for sleep, thoughts of abandonment began to run rampant. Thoughts he'd had before. 

He laid his head against the soft of his pillow, staring at the roof that was unlike that of the bunker's. Without meaning to, the memory of the first night he stayed there dredged itself up from his mind. 

_Nate had left just a couple hours ago, to talk to the Elder. The one Danse would gladly give his life to protect. The one that wished him dead, and would spit upon his body if he could._

_"Brotherhood Paladin turned Synth," he angrily muttered to himself. How could he not have known? Why did Nate risk himself to save such a thing?_

_As he sat upon the ruined desk, his thoughts full of shadows, his eyes strayed to the pistol he'd hidden. When Nate came into the bunker, gun poised at Danse, he kicked it into a pile of rubble._

_"I don't want to kill you," Nate had seen the horrors of war, lost friends to it. He'd gazed into Death's eyes, and watched as it took others around him. He will not be Death's killing hand._

__

_"I should be an example, not an exception," if Nate didn't kill him, he'd do it himself. He didn't deserve to live._

____

_"Danse, please. Look at me," and that was Danse's undoing._

_____ _

_A look into the eyes of a man haunted, teary and pained. Something in him snapped low in his chest, he couldn't. Even if he convinced Nate to leave, he knew he wouldn't be strong enough to pull the trigger. He's a synth, broken his oath to the Brotherhood in more ways anyone ever could. If he couldn't keep an oath, why should he deserve loyal friends?_

______ _ _

_"I don't care what you're made of. You're Danse, you're alive whether you believe it or not. I don't—I don't want to lose you too."_

_______ _ _ _

_And the events soon followed. Maxson threatened to deal the killing blow himself, and for a moment, Danse almost wished he had. But again, Nate held a blade to his own neck, protecting him. "If he goes, so do I. And you with us."_

_______ _ _ _

That night, he'd fought his demons harder than he'd ever fought in battle. Tonight would be no different.

_______ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer? I’m going to try my best to use my limited knowledge of some things to make this fic the best it can be. There will be later mentions of Nate’s trauma, etc. etc. but bear with me, and constructive criticism is accepted. Thanks for giving me a chance!


	2. Heavy on the Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate has his own demons to battle with while Danse is as oblivious to his own feelings as a rock. 
> 
> Both are concerned for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The POV on this seems odd to me. Might edit later.

His eyes felt drowsy, his body heavy. He couldn't bear to pry himself out of bed. But he had to, because the sun was up, which meant Nate was probably working. And needing help. So he focused his willpower into peeling himself out of bed and into a fresh change of clothes. 

As he stepped outside, he felt something tug him in the direction of the cantina. He had no appetite whatsoever, but his mind was set. What is going on now? 

"—almost. I still need two more to redo, then I'll move on to the walls in the northern houses." 

"Oh thank the heavens. I'm afraid my boy Adam will catch another cold," a settler, Mrs. Tibner was speaking. She was standing near Nate, who was presumably eating breakfast. 

"What's the job today?" Almost by second nature, Danse laid his hand on Nate's shoulder, something he never does. He wasn't one for physical contact, the one person he felt comfortable (other than Nate) with was dead. If they ever existed in the first place. 

"Oh, morning. Jesse was telling me about the walls on one of the houses needs some maintenance," if Nate was surprised by it, he didn't show it. 

Instead of prolonging the contact, which for some reason was okay with Danse, he sat in the chair across from Nate. He wasn't hungry now, more uneasy with himself. _Why was he okay with it?_

"Well, we'll make sure to fix it up quick after we finish the roofing," with further reassurance, Jesse left them alone. 

Upon further inspection, Nate seems more weary than yesterday. His shoulders were hunched, a stark contrast to the way the military man carried himself. There were even dark circles under his eyes. 

"You didn't get much sleep, did you?" Danse almost couldn't help the immediate surge of concern he felt for his friend. The first person he's been comfortable with in a long time. 

"I uh," Nate paused, should he lie? "No, I didn't. Bad dreams." 

"And you want to finish the roofing _and_ fix a couple walls?"

"We've traveled across the 'wealth on worse, Danse." 

"Let me handle it today. I'll get some help from some of the people, you need to rest. At least for a couple more hours." 

"I have to—" not him, per se, but he wanted to be busy. Less time to dwell on whatever his head conjured up last night. 

" _Nate,_ " and he was quiet again. "You'll work yourself to death like this, we both know it. Let me handle today's work." 

Something in Danse's head told him he should try to let Nate rest. Then if he finished early, take care of the guy so he doesn't just drop dead at the early age of 27. Like the same insistent feeling he felt walking to the cantina, something was begging him to make sure Nate was healthy. Nothing out of the ordinary, but rather amplified by at least ten. 

"Alright," Nate sighed, shoulders hunching further, "just for a couple hours. Don't think I haven't forgot about that check-up yet." 

"If it helps you rest easy, I'll go now," and then he was putting Nate's dishes back in the kitchen and walking him back to his room. 

Even as his head hit the pillow, he kept trying to talk Danse into letting him work. Mumbling about how he built Sanctuary from the ground up, _a few walls are a piece of cake._ But not a minute into relaxing, he was sound asleep. Danse smiled to himself, happy to have succeeded in getting Nate to rest a little longer. 

He knew he promised Nate he'd get checked, but he wanted Nate to have less work by the time he woke up. So rather than ask Curie or the visiting Doc Weathers, he picked up the toolkit by Nate's door and set to work. He did manage to wrangle a couple of Nate's friends into helping, one being Piper, and the other being Curie. They'd helped Nate before on his little projects, so it was easiest to ask them rather than teach settlers the jobs they needed help with. 

"Ever considered going to Diamond City, Curie? We have our own science center," the chatter of them both distracted Danse. Although he was tuned out most of the time, his thoughts didn't stray so much to Nate. 

"Really? Perhaps we can arrange a trip to this center?" Curie's excitement was palpable, even if Danse wasn't looking at her, he could tell she was smiling. 

"Heck yeah, maybe just the two of us? I get the feeling Blue ain't up for much of a trip right now," so Piper was concerned too. 

"Yes, I get that feeling as well," maybe they all were. At this rate, it seems Nate's trying really hard to run himself into the ground. 

"How 'bout you, Danse? Nate feeling a little off to you?" Piper's voice brought him out of his thoughts, which were beginning to stray to their mutual friend. 

"Mmm, I agree. He's overworking himself," was all he offered before going silent again. It's not that he didn't want to talk to them, he just wanted to finish this.

"Perhaps we should do this more often? Help Nate to lessen his burden?" 

"I'd love to Curie, but I'm not always around. But I'll see what I can do while I'm here," Piper was somehow still a resident in Diamond City. After the incident with the mayor, the town didn't kick her out for calling out the truth earlier. She visited often though, to see Nate and update herself on whatever pieces of information settlers brought with them. 

The hours continued on like that, small conversation between the three of them as they worked. Soon, they'd finished the roofing. 

"Right on time," Piper gestured to the growing figure walking to them. "It seems someone has finally decided to wake up." 

"Uh, how's work?" Danse noticed Nate still looked tired, but slightly more refreshed. 

"We finished the roofing," Curie happily announced, "and we are on our way to fix the walls." 

"Unless you wanna take over? I know how controlling you are, Blue. Always gotta do things your way," she meant it jokingly, and Nate smiled. 

"Yeah, gotta make sure the scary reporter isn't making more holes," he laughed, and she along with him. It was easy to see in these moments why Nate had so many people rallying behind him. 

After they finished, Nate looked at all of them, eyes lingering on Danse, “I’ll leave you to it, if you don’t mind. I have to talk to Preston right now anyway.” 

“Alright, Blue. You’ll know where we’ll be for the next hour or so. Go do your noble duties,” Piper smiled brightly, glad to give Nate a minor reprieve. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” was all he said before he jogged off in the direction of the main house. 

“At least he doesn’t look like mirelurk scat?” Piper shrugged, trodding off to the house needing repairs. Danse followed suit, he was happy for the small victory as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, author has decreed that after being woken up 210 years later, witnessing the death of your spouse, and kidnapping of your child, Nate has some things he has yet to come to terms with. Perhaps some left over memories from his time serving as well.


	3. Pitiful Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate hates the eggshells Danse is surrounded by, and all they want to do is help each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t guessed, italics kind of signify a flashback? Or recalling of memories.
> 
> And the thing about the callsign (in this chapter), idk much about, forgive me. Seen a concept like that used in many things. So do with that what you will.

The feeling of the tugging around his waist, like a rope tying him to Nate. Long after night had fallen, Danse has had to stop himself from blatantly walking into Nate's house. After they'd finished the walls, Danse excused himself to his quarters. Every step he took way from the Main House, twisted something inside of him. Like a knife in his gut. Pulling it out would only kill him. 

The sun began to fade and the tug grew into yanking. But yet he resisted, "what is this?" 

He locked his room door and let himself sink into his habit of cleaning his laser rifle. He repeated the process almost three times before the feeling returned with a vengeance. He couldn't ignore it anymore. 

"What am I doing?" Hurriedly unlocking his door and leaving his rifle in pieces upon his desk, he ran to Nate's door. 

He didn't bother to knock, didn't care for it. He needed to see if Nate was safe. Irrational need drove him to clumsily shove the door open. His eyes darted around the room, landing on a cowering figure. 

"Identify yourself!" Oh, Nate. 

"It's me, Nate. It's Danse, it's me," he knew of Nate's nightmares. His twisted sense of reality that came with waking. 

"Not a step closer or I'll—I'll shoot!" A 10mm wouldn't do much damage to him in his armor, but now? In nothing but his sleepwear? 

He sifted through his memories for the code Nate told him about. One they used in his company. Nate mentioned it would help sometimes to pull him out of a trance. 

"Uh, blue! Blue! It's me, I'm friendly," he held his hands up in a sign of peace. His legs shifted into an almost kneeling stance. 

"Oh god, finally! Roberts? Is that you?" Nate's hands were still shaky on the pistol, now tilted towards Danse's feet. 

"Yeah, yeah, it's me," Nate visibly relaxed, finally lowering his gun to the floor. He stood, rushing to Danse, pulling him tight to his chest. 

"I thought I'd nev—" his voice cuts off, breath huffing near Danse's ear, "Roberts? You don't look right—?" 

He remarks that Danse isn't Roberts a couple more times- that he doesn't feel the same- before coming to. "Danse?" 

He's pulled away, Nate's hands upon his shoulders. Nate's eyes examine his face, seeking reassurance. That the ghosts don't haunt him, only memories. 

"Yeah, Nate," he still didn't know how to act when Nate returned. All he knew was to be gentle, don't scare him, no sudden moves or loud noises. 

He remembered the week it took for him to heal from the gunshot in his lower leg after he ducked too fast. Nate reacted on instinct, and Danse didn't see him for three weeks because Nate avoided him out of guilt. 

"I'm sorry, it's just— just a bad dream," his hands dropped, and he turned away from Danse. 

"Do you want me to stay?" In a moment of utter desperation, Nate had admitted that it helped him sleep knowing someone was nearby. Keeping watch for him. 

"I can't ask that of you, not when you still haven't gone in for a checkup." 

"I have," the tug in his chest started again, like a new breed of anxiety. But Danse paid it no mind. 

Nate shook his head, back still turned, "no, you haven't. I asked Curie, even Doc. Both said that you haven't gotten checked out at all." 

"Nate,” he didn't want to lie, but it seemed easiest to reassure Nate. 

"Don't _'Nate'_ me!" His voice rose, a rare occurrence for a very patient man. "You still don't get it, do you?" 

"Get what?" 

"You can let yourself crumble into ruin," he paused, walking to the dresser and picking something up. "But I can't?" 

"The people need you, Nate," _but no one needs Danse._ Unspoken, but Nate knows. Like he knows Danse’s fears, his life, everything.

“Well, I—” _need you._ He can’t find the right words for a moment, “my life is worth no more than yours." 

"We aren't having this conversation now. It's been months, let it rest," _longer than that, actually. But who's counting?_

"Then why do you still act like I'm going to come back to Sanctuary one day and shoot you point blank?" 

Nate's staring into his soul now, reading him like a well-preserved book. Danse can pretend that he doesn't have those thoughts. That since his big reveal he hasn't mulled over it. One day Nate would come back from the wasteland, tired of Danse. Because he somehow represents all that tore his family apart. Wife killed and child taken by the Institute, the very people who designed him. But he does. And when Nate exposes him, his breath seizes. 

"Every time those gates open, I always see you," Nate turns to him again, face unreadable. "You look as you always do but your body gives it away." 

"I don't think that," it's feeble and weak, what comes out of his mouth, Danse knows. It's been well over a year, and he still struggles to accept that he's not all human. 

"Liar. I see it. You cower sometimes, when I carry my rifle in my hands. When you're outside of your suit. When I visited you out of the blue, I wanted to see if my eyes were playing tricks on me again. That I wasn't seeing things. But I opened the door and your demeanor changed, defensive.

I've been a soldier before, Danse. I know what it's like. To always be on edge, waiting for the enemy just over the horizon. But it's just us, Danse. I’d never—" 

Nate's face seems set in stone, as he begins to advance on Danse, backing him into the door. He isn't trying to threaten Danse, but he forgets. Sinks into his imagination, that Nate will pull a knife on him and end it right here. With the moon as his witness, he won't have to suffer Danse's bullshit anymore. 

"Synth or not, I would turn a gun on myself before I ever hurt you," and Danse could see it again. That same look from the bunker. Even as Nate's finger jabs into his chest at his every word, even if he is angry, he can't bring himself to speak. 

"And I'd kill Maxson again if it meant I could prove that to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not familiar with the effects or symptoms of PTSD, and I’m sorry if I romanticize them. Please forgive me for any transgressions in my portrayal of it here. 
> 
> Also, this is set in which Danse doesn’t give you the cold shoulder for killing his faction leader.


	4. Serpent’s Bite and A Call to Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all settlers are nice farmers and our two favorite idiots are maybe starting to see reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters posted at such a time??? You best believe it.

Nate kicked Danse out of his room a few moments later, and Danse can't tell what's worse. Being alone with his thoughts, or knowing Nate will probably go into forced exile after their 'talk'. 

But he retreats back to his own house again, the tug still there, but faint. It's pulling something loose in him, but he doesn't care. He's been broken since the day he ran away from the Sentinel Site, fearing for who he was. Or rather, what he was. 

He manages a measly two hours before the sun rises. With most of the house upkeep done, all that's left is to make sure the sheds and cantina are stocked. 

He struggles to get out of bed, but that's no one's business but his own. His rifle is still in pieces after he tried to clean it. A task for another time. He wasn't going anywhere any time soon. Danse would be lucky if Nate traveled with him at all after this. If anything, Nate would choose MacCready over him. _At least the man isn't having an identity crisis._

"Good morning, Mister Danse," Codsworth greeted him at the cantina entrance. In all honesty, Danse almost hopes he'd get one last look at Nate before he left on some mission. 

"Breakfast has been freshly made, but if you want to eat something other than Tato stew, you're free to cook whatever you want." 

"Uh, thanks, Codsworth. But I won't be eating this morning," he continues walking inside, to the kitchen portion of it. He checks the cupboards before entering the supply room. 

Picking up the clipboard from the wall near the storage closet, he checks the manifest for what they have, and what they need. _Of course they're running out of Cram._ The settlers tend to lean towards eating Cram these days, than not. But it doesn't matter. He just notes it on the paper, making a mental note to request some when the traders come in. 

"Working hard or hardly working?" Of all the people to bother Danse this morning, leave it to Finé (fin-ay) to piss him off. 

"More than what you do here," Danse doesn't know why Nate let Finé in. 

A pathetic man, the most Danse seen him do was put on a show about how much crops he's bringing in, and how _'oh my poor boy, he's starved, we need more rations.'_ His 'boy' was 5'6" and weighed an estimated 160 lbs, and that was Danse's guess. He's even bigger now, and is basically a half-sentient rock. Some poisonous part pointed out in his head _'at least he's human.'_

"You wound me, soldier," he's leaning in the doorway to the supply room, hand on his chest like Danse dealt him a blow to his heart. "Why don't you like me? All I ever did to you was play nice." 

He knows damn well what he did. If it was up to Danse, the man would be banished to one of the lesser settlements. _Or rotting in some prewar ruins._

"Except that one time," he smiles wide, like a mongrel about to strike. His teeth are yellowed with decay. "How's Nate these days, hmm?" 

"I suggest you leave before I decide to tell him what you were up to, last week." 

"Oh, blackmailing, are we? Brave, coming from a _synth,_ " he spits, not too far off its mark. 

Danse has a few inches on this guy, and more muscle mass. If he wanted, he'd kick Finé's ass, and then some. But he's already on the rocks with Nate, he doesn't need this dispute to make it worse. Finé seems to know this, continuing to leer at Danse. 

"Finé, what're you doing here?" Nate walks up from behind Finé, unseen by Danse until now. 

"Oh uh, just—just helping check the stocks! Nothin' like being prepared for the future!" The mention of Vault-Tec's old slogan seems to make both Danse and Nate cringe. 

"Yeah, thanks for that, but only certain people are allowed to do that. And take no offense, but you're not one of them," Nate gestures to Danse. "I'm sure he's got it covered." 

"Oh, al—alright. I'll uh, make myself scarce then," and just like that, the snake slithers back to it's hole. 

As he clears the doorway, Nate walks in before shutting the door. Finé gives one last look over his shoulder, glaring at Danse as it closes. 

"Listen, about yesterday," Nate looks defeated. A complete 180 from how he talked to Finé just now. 

"You don't have to apologize," Danse interrupted. Because it was true. Danse is still dealing with his own problems, and maybe he needed the extra push. "What you said was true, and I should apologize for thinking so lowly of you." 

Nate's back is to the door, and Danse can see the emotions on his face now. He has that hesitant smile, one where he is unsure of how long the happiness with last. Like he should hide it, but doesn't want to. 

"Leave it to me to ruin something good," is all he says before he rushes into Danse’s space. Not forgetting Danse’s most prominent fear, it’s more like slightly faster walking.

Danse forces himself to still, as Nate grows steadily closer. He wouldn't hurt him, he said so. And it was true, because as soon as he's close enough, he envelops Danse in a hug. 

"We both have issues, I know," he sighs, and Danse can feel that rope pulling. "But that doesn't mean we have to go through them alone." 

Nate's arms loosen around him, and he steps back. He still looks so tired, weary and aching. A moment passes between them, with Danse just looking at him. Taking in all that Nate is, bone-deep tired and still busy with work. 

"Are you two done in there? Preston wants to talk to Nate!" 

Piper's voice startles both of them, jumping like two mice. They begin a fit of laughter at each other's reactions. Nate almost looks happy, if it weren't for the tinge in his eyes. Danse's chest aches, and the tug wants to be closer. _But he can't._

"Yeah, we're," Nate pauses as he is still laughing, "done. Be out in a minute." 

They compose themselves, smiles light on their faces before exiting. As they do, Piper looks at them both, examining them like a science experiment. 

"Don't tell me you guys decided to finally get togeth—" she's cut off by an impatient Preston entering the cantina, clearing his throat. 

"General, we've received an urgent distress call from the Castle. They're under attack." 

"By?" It's not hard to guess. When Nate and Maxson had their final fight, most of the Brotherhood were left intact. Maxson was unwilling to work with the Institute and Minutemen, wanted everyone destroyed. But with no leader to follow, they went back to the Capital Wasteland. 

"Remnants of Brotherhood," some had stayed after the fall of their Elder. Most chanting that they will not stand for such a crime, that revenge was needed. But they never did anything. 

"It's a little more than a day's journey by foot," Nate, along with Piper, Preston, and Danse begin briskly walking out of the cantina. 

"But if I use the Institute's teleporter," he mumbled to himself as he walked to the garage area of the Main House. "I can get there in a few minutes." 

He's suiting up, grabbing his rifle, as well as putting on his armor. While he's doing this, he turns to Preston, "send a call to nearby settlements of the Castle for aid. Warn them of what they should expect if they decide to come." 

"What about me, Blue?" 

"Piper, can you hold down the fort here while I'm gone? Preston will be busy handling the radio and there's no one I trust more." 

"Will do, Blue."

"Thanks," he's pulling on his chest piece as he turns to Danse. 

"I know these are your or were—whatever, your brothers and sisters," he frowns at himself, hands fiddling with the straps at his side. He wants to continue, but is unsure of how to ask. _How would you ask someone something like this?_

"But if they can't see reason, then they can no longer claim such a title," yeah, Danse fought and bled with these people. But that was a year ago. Where were they when he fell from his rank? When Danse became an it and not a he? He's confident that they probably rejoiced at word of his 'death'. 

"Thank you, and I'm sorry to make you do this," and his armor is secured, gun loaded and waiting. 

"Let me get my suit and weapon, then we can head out," Danse runs back to his quarters, efficiently putting his rifle back together before heading to the room opposite of his. His own storage for his power armor. _'So you don't have to leave it outside to rust.'_

Nate was still standing in the same spot when he came back. "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finé and Danse may or may not have some backstory to them. Nate is unknowing of this issue, because well, he wasn’t exactly paying attention when it happened. 
> 
> (Also, the italics near the end were totally Nate giving Danse an extra room because he’s stated verbally before that water rusts out his power armor ;))


	5. Stand With Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate wholly believes that Danse is a badass and they both see an old friend. 
> 
> Said friend is no longer friendly though.

_“He’s a machine! Technology run amok! He shouldn’t be allowed to live!”_

_A fresh set of burns peppers his left arm, it doesn’t matter. He’s doing this for Danse. So they can be free._

_“I should’ve killed you both when I had the chance!”_

_A final battle to rule them all, the Elder will die tonight by his hand. Even if it meant he will also go with him._

“I will never in my entire life,” Danse gags, “ever get used to teleporting.” 

Like vertigo on chems, his head spins like one of those antique globes would. If he had eaten breakfast, he’d have to remove his helmet. But eventually the world grows more stable and he’s okay again. 

When Danse first teleported, they had to take a couple hours just for his recovery, while Nate seemed okay. Nate’s theory was that since he is of Institute origin, the signals might actually scramble him a bit to prevent easy escape and give time for a Courser to be dispatched. Or Danse’s stomach particles didn’t like it. Who knows?

They’re perched on a building top near the northern side of the Castle, Nate currently scoping out the attacker’s barricades just outside the Castle’s walls. They’re fenced in from both sides, north and south. 

“Any update on those reinforcements, Garvey?” Nate calls over the radio, setting his rifle down. 

“Yes, General. Three teams of four have been dispatched to the South Gate. They’re awaiting your orders.” 

“Tell them I will fire a flare as a signal of attack,” Nate picked up his rifle again, pivoting to face Danse. 

“Ready? If you’re having doubts, we still don’t have to,” it wasn’t going to be easy to live with the blood. Nate knew it wasn’t. 

“That’s the fifth time you’ve asked me that. Are _you_ ready?” Danse was okay with this. After all Nate has done for him, defending his work is the least he could do. 

“I—yeah. I just don’t want you to regret helping me,” cocking his gun, he made his way down the ruins, while Danse stumbled and tried to make as little noise as possible. 

As they approached, shouts could be heard, presumably from the Brotherhood Knight on a makeshift podium. They took cover in the small ruined café just outside the Northern entrance. 

“We will not fire if you tell us where he is!” 

“Over my dead body!” Ronnie Shaw stood proud on the wall of the Castle. Fully armored and totting a gauss rifle, she was a sight to behold. 

“Yeah!” Cheers of the minutemen gathered in the courtyard could be heard. 

“You have until nightfall!” The knight growled, before descending from the stand. He returned to the makeshift walls blocking the North side. The knight began addressing a table of Brotherhood soldiers, probably to arrange battle plans. 

“We have a few more hours before they attack,” Danse spoke, crouched next to Nate behind the tabletop. “How do you want to do this?” 

“Why not give them a surprise?” Nate smirked, before turning and reaching into his pack for a few grenades and the flare gun. 

A bright flash of red lit the sky, and the battle had begun. 

With the precision of a trained soldier, grenades flew from Nate’s hands and into the advancing Brotherhood Knights. Broken armor flew, and gunfire began to hail on their position. Danse did the majority of the out-of-cover shooting, as he was heavily armored. Nate on the other hand, carried heavier ordinance, somehow pulling a missile launcher from the small pack he often traveled with. 

“We need to take care of the Knights!” Nate shouted as Danse stood to fire at the four still attacking them. 

Their lines were breaking, as the Minutemen in the courtyard also attacked on their side as well. But there were more than they’d previously thought. 

As Nate fired round after round, he noted it was like watching a circus. Person after person, somehow appearing outside the barricades, like some sort of clown car. One by one they fell, and appeared just as quick. 

“The traitor is here!” A knight shouted, and the soldiers advancing on the Castle changed directions. Now, there was a Knight in power armor and a small army marching to them. 

“They’re multiplying like mole rats!” 

“Should we stand our ground?!” Danse worried for a moment. His imagination conjuring a dying Nate, at the barrel end of a laser rifle. The tugging in his chest pulled him back, towards Nate right then, a bullet ricocheting off his left leg. 

“For now! We’ll move when they thin out!” The sound of battle nearly drowned out their voices. Laser rifles were firing at them, while the minutemen fired upon them. 

The remaining knight was getting dangerously close to their position, while the soldiers were beginning to decrease in number. Danse tried his best to put them down, but like some prewar ruins, they refused to crumble. Even as he shot off their helmet, revealing— 

“Rhys?!” Danse and Nate simultaneously shouted, halting their defense for a moment. 

The man in question didn’t hear them, instead snarling in anger at having lost his armor. Snapping out of their surprise, both ex-soldiers doubled their efforts to bring down the incoming knight. And for a moment, it worked, Rhys began to slow. But then he grimaced, and threw down his weapon, favoring to charge at them like a raging bull. 

“Damn it! Nate, get behind me!” Danse could fight him, suit or not. 

“Shit!” And Nate was shoved behind him, Rhys a mere five feet away. Danse dropped his gun, putting his hands out and fixing his stance to brace against the impact. 

Metal scraped against metal as Rhys came into contact with Danse. Hands swung, Rhys landing a hit to Danse’s helmet, disorientating him. He shoved Rhys away, and kept doing so until they were near the rusted semi truck. Like training all those years ago, they began to fight in their clunky suits. But at some point Rhys had grabbed a rock off the floor, smashing it into his visor. Danse’s screen was cracked, so he moved to take off his helmet. 

“You! You’re supposed to be dead!” He snarled, attacking again, “I will be glad to rid the Commonwealth of such filth!” 

“Rhys, I don’t want to kill you!” Blocking hit after hit, Danse felt his right arm piece break off. 

“I don’t share the sentiment!” Rhys growled, continuing to try to incapacitate Danse. 

One of the people he’d grown to know, but he knew what he said. If they cannot accept who Nate sided with, they were no brothers to him. With a new energy, he winded back his hand before striking Rhys square in the chest. He took a step back, breath knocked from him. Danse moved to tackle him, but in his recklessness, didn’t see Rhys raising his hand. 

Just as his shoulder made contact, so did Rhys’ hand. Along with a killer headache forming, Danse found himself face down, Rhys leaning over him. 

“Pathetic. How were you ever a Paladin?” Rhys gave him a kick for good measure. “I’ll save you for last. While I’m at it, I’ll let you watch me kill this traitor.” 

Nate was watching them duel it out, silently rooting for Danse. But he didn’t see Danse go down, preoccupied with the remaining foot soldiers. So when he heard the clanking of power armor behind him, he’d thought Danse had won. 

“Did you kick his ass?” 

“Yeah,” time seemed to pause, “and you’re next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly “graphic depictions of violence”, so yeah. Also, I mentioned some things about how the teleporting might affect synths, completely me and I don’t think nothing like that is mentioned in-game. I just wanted to put something that’d world-build a bit, I guess.


	6. Death’s Awaiting Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate is hurt in more ways than one and Danse doesn’t care about his own health because as long as Nate breathes, he’s the first priority.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, B.O.O. here to remind you that I am in fact making most of Nate’s military past up because I don’t have sound knowledge of how that stuff works. If I offend, please know that I did not intend to. Thanks for giving me a chance!

Nate was transported back to his training days in the military. When they were being taught how to handle heavily armored combatants on the field. 

_“If they are bigger than you, strike quick!”_ The voice is his instructor echoed in his head. Nate spun around, ducking to just barely avoid the arm that swung at his head. 

_“If they are taller than you, strike low!”_ Rifle still in hand, he shot at the latches attaching the armor to the suit, letting it fall away. 

He managed to maneuver so that he was behind Rhys, before shooting him through the suit’s holes. Rhys shouted in pain, kneeling. 

“Nate!” 

He could hear Danse shouting for him distantly. But he couldn’t be distracted. He fired at Rhys again, missing as he turned around, limping. He fired into the exposed parts of his leg again. Rhys kept moving. Why won’t he stop? Fear began to fill him as he backed into the wall, still shooting. 

“You think he can save you?” Gesturing time his left, to Danse, who’s still on the ground, attempting to get up. 

“Do you think you’re going to win?” His hand is on his rifle, tearing it from his hands. 

“Did you think you’re going to get a happy ending?” His other hand grabs Nate by the neck, lifting him. 

He tosses him out, and Nate lands just in front of Danse. He hasn’t felt this bad since—he can’t remember. Everything always hurts now. 

“Now watch, scum!” Rhys turns his own rifle on him, and Nate is scared. 

_“Shit! Roberts! Where are you?!”_

_Bullets are whizzing passed his cover, he’s almost out of ammo. He’s lost his direction when they were ambushed, where the fuck is Roberts?!_

_“Shit, shit, shit,” his hands are fumbling to reload the gun in his hands. He drops the magazine in the dirt, and for a moment he can’t—doesn’t want to pick it back up._

_But he does, because he remembers Nora, remembers his wife who’s waiting for him at home. He remembers his mother, who he’d promised he’d return to, ‘don’t worry, mom. I’m gonna be just fine.’_

_He breathes, and for a moment, his hands stop shaking and the noise stops. He can almost smell the grass in the meadow. Where he and Nora had their first date. The very same one he later proposed in. He can see her smiling at him, telling him, “I love you, you big idiot.”_

_He opens his eyes again, and he thinks he’s gone deaf. There’s no more gunfire. No more explosions of mud and dirt. But in front of him, the trees and bushes begin to rustle. Fear overtakes him, and he raises his gun at the movement._

_“Identify yourself! Not a step closer!”_

_“Blue! Blue! We’re friendly!”_

_But he’s panicking, shooting before the callsign registers. Before he can even breathe a word, he’s flat on his back as a fellow soldier aims a rifle at his head._

If you asked Danse about this moment again, no matter how many years have passed, he will still remember. The feeling of hopelessness. The sound of two gunshots. Nate’s blood, and his own. Rhys’ dead eyes, the gaping hole in his head. The tugging in his chest transforming into a heaping pile of _‘ohmygodhe’sdead’._

“The General’s been shot!” Minutemen can be heard, just behind him, as Danse finally manages to hit the eject button on his suit. 

He wastes no time scrambling to Nate’s body, laying ever so still. His own hurts, like he was hit by a vertibird, but he can’t bring himself to care. Nate’s always been the first priority. 

“Nate? Please tell me you’re alive,” Haylen taught him a thing or two about checking for vitals. Remembers her telling him to check for a pulse, put pressure on the wound. And he would if he could see it. 

“Just— barely,” and Danse can feel his relief. But he’s still afraid. There’s blood soaking through Nate’s armor. 

“Uh, it seems—“ Nate takes a shuddering breath, “that I’ve been shot.” 

He steadies his hands, feeling along Nate’s sides for the fastenings of his chest plate. Once he finds them, he swiftly undoes them, tossing the armor to the side. 

“Wow,” Nate has the audacity to joke, “at least take me on a date first.” 

“If you live through this,” finding the wound on his lower abdomen, near his hip, “maybe I’ll take you up on the offer.” 

Danse doesn’t think about what he’s saying. His focus is on the thoughts circling his mind, _‘keep him alive until someone can help, my fault, all my fault.’_ But Nate hears him loud and clear, a soft breath of surprise leaves him. There isn’t time to give a reply to Danse, as the Minutemen finally manage to reach them through the bodies littering the area.

“I need a doctor!” 

“We’re here!” Someone calls back, and there’s hands moving Nate. Danse is in a daze still as they carry Nate back to the med bay of the Castle. 

He’s placed on a close approximation to an operating table, and Danse is barred from the room. Naturally, he ignores Ronnie insisting he get checked, favoring to wait outside. He has to know Nate is okay first. If he isn’t, then he’d let himself wither. 

Hours pass, and the afternoon sun bleeds into night. His body aches, but he still sits outside. Waiting. 

“He’s going to pull through,” someone Danse has never seen before comes up to him, seemingly from the shadows. Or he’s too preoccupied with worry to pay attention. Both seem equally possible at this point.

“I know that,” he hopes. 

“Are you going to tell him?” The woman tilts her head questioningly. 

“Tell him what?” 

“You know what I mean,” a smile begins to form on her lips, “you’d follow him to the gates of hell and back. That kind of loyalty doesn’t mean just anything.” 

He’s at a loss for words. Of course he’d— 

“Danse? We’re finished.” A doctor Danse briefly recognizes as Mindy emerges from the med bay. 

He moves to go in, but turns his head to say goodbye to the woman. Only, she isn’t there. Mindy who either doesn’t really care or isn’t paying attention, turns back into the med bay. 

“He’s not awake right now,” she stands near his bed, “but he’ll be fine. He’s on Med-X, a couple stimpacks, and some antibiotics to fight infection. Take care.” 

She pats his shoulder, leaving him alone with the sleeping man. He looks just as he always does. Sleeping without a care in the world to what can hurt him. Danse is content enough to sit in the chair they left for him at Nate’s bedside. He listens to Nate breathe for a few minutes, before succumbing to sleep himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ad Victoriam, right?


	7. At Long Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As any good self-doubting good-willed character does, Danse goes about his form of “doing the right thing”. Whether it actually is or not is up for debate.

_”What’re you planning to do, after this?”_

_The sun is bright and shining in their eyes, and it would’ve been nice if they weren’t practically melting in their suits._

_“I don’t know, man,” Cutler looks at him, “maybe I’ll move somewhere else. Find a girl, have some kids.”_

_“Ever consider going back to Rivet City?”_

_“Hell no, too many bad memories attached to that place.”_

_The conversation seems to lull, a few birds noisily flying overhead. Other Brotherhood soldiers walking past._

_“What about you? Do you want a family after all this?”_

_What did Danse want?_

He wakes up before sunrise, Nate still sleeping. His dream comes back to him. He and Cutler back in the Capital, on guard duty. Even after all these years, he still doesn’t have a solid answer. His life with the Brotherhood was over, so what did he want to do? His eyes stray to Nate, who stirs briefly, before settling again. 

For a moment, he sees a future for himself. Not in the tradition sense, like Cutler, but something that brings back that feeling. The tugging, but at his heart. Like an old brick house, something finally shakes loose, bringing down a cacophony of buried feelings. He wants something, but is he worthy of it? 

_“I don’t know,” he finds himself replying. Cutler laughs next to him, a wheezing sound._

_“Of course you don’t,” still laughing, “the most practical man in the Capital Wasteland doesn’t think of the future. All he knows is in the moment.”_

_Danse begins to laugh along with him, returning his own jokes. They keep talking for awhile, sharing thoughts and memories. One of the more peaceful times._

_“Knight Cutler? Knight Danse?” A scribe is standing in front of them. “I’ve been sent to inform you of your reassignment. You are to report to Paladin Vakert at 0900 tomorrow.”_

_The scribe walks away, and the moment is gone like smoke in the wind. They’re being reassigned, who knows what for?_

_“Do you know anything about the reassignment?” He’s curious, about what it might be like far away from the Citadel._

_“A bit. I was in the cafeteria and Krieg asked if I wanted to finally ‘see the wasteland’,” Cutler gestured with his hands, laughing gently. “But it’s mostly going to be a patrol. On the airship they’ve spent a million years building.”_

_Danse was silent for a long while, words and things stuck on his tongue. Like multiple vertibirds trying to land on one landing area. He can’t seem to find his voice._

_“Don’t worry man, We’ll still be safe and all that,” Cutler always knew what to say and when to say it. Just as he had when they were barely living in Rivet City, half starved but loyal to no one but each other._

_“I know we will be.”_

He doesn’t want to feel like that again. Doesn’t want to be happy for someone so close to him, only to have them ripped away. He sees a bit of Cutler in Nate, the easy attitude, but somehow still concise and to the point. But there’s also something else, something he never had with Cutler. They were brothers, with years of looking after each other. 

But Nate? He can’t even begin with describing it. When he thinks of Nate, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude takes a majority of his mind. A fondness for him, everything the man does. His helpfulness, his flaws left over from his past, everything he’s gone through to build himself a life after all he’d ever known was taken from him. The never ending smiles that brighten his day, and _that woman was right._ He’d follow Nate to the gates of hell if it meant he’d still get to be by his side. But—

He can’t ruin what Nate has. Danse’s done enough damage, look at him. Stuck in a bed until he finishes healing, putting him in more work for when he wakes. Like some long forgotten prophecy, he remembers hearing from somewhere that to get rid of a problem, you’d have to cut it at its’ source. 

Danse gets up from the chair he fell asleep in, stretching, before walking to the bedside. 

“You’re going to hate this for me, I know. But trust me when I say it’s for the best,” he mumbles, as if it’ll convince himself. 

Rummaging through the tables and desks, Danse procures a pencil and paper, writing a note. He manages to finish just as he sees the light of the sun peeking in from the doorway. As he leaves the med bay for possibly the last time, he hopes he’s done the right thing for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that before Cutler passed, Danse was easygoing. And then after he kinda thought that if he didn’t take his job seriously, more people would end up like Cutler, giving us the dedicated person we meet in game.


	8. Epilogue: Across the Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing takes time and right now, that’s all Nate has. That, and a few good friends to pick him up when he falls too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited ending. Thank you to those of you who’ve been reading as I updated, and to those who’ll visit long after this is done.

_"He left a couple hours before you woke up. I saw him leaving, thought he’d be back.”_

_"He hasn't been seen around Sanctuary since you guys left."_

_"General, there's been another sighting, near Sunshine Tidings Co-op."_

The first week of Danse _'doing the right thing'_ , Nate was on bed rest for three days. Unable to do anything about the note he'd woken up to, or the empty chair at his bedside. The other four, Nate was frantic, chasing sightings and rumors. He did everything he could, before turning to the Institute. 

_"There's nothing we can do, Director. When the Railroad released the synths they helped escape, they disabled their tracking chips. Your friend is virtually gone to us."_

Unable to sleep, his companions noticed the shell of a man he was becoming. _Was it his fault Danse left?_

"What am I doing?" Something ached in his chest, resembling what he felt when Nora— 

"You're looking, Blue. But Danse is a strong man. He isn't going to die," Piper tried her best to hold him together, as did everyone. (As much as they resented Danse for how he treated everyone, they’d all accepted him after he became a known synth.)

Preston stopped pestering him about settlements in need. X6-88 offered to take care of missions Institute-related for him, and MacCready, ever the stone-hearted sharpshooter offered to give Nate tips when sniping. He also acted as Nate's best friend in this case, making sure Nate didn't exhaust himself in his search efforts. 

But no one could help that Danse has practically dropped off the face of the earth. Other than assumed sightings, no one had seen hide nor hair of Danse after he left the Castle. 

Nate worried, and for a time, his nightmares got worse. The same dream, only, it was Danse that was lost, and not his old friend. Mac would have to sleep nearby, and sometimes even that wasn't enough. In a moment of desperation, he'd picked the lock on Danse's door to his room. 

It took another week to convince Nate to sleep in his own room again. 

But weeks turned into months, and before Nate knew it, a year had passed. Danse had yet to return. At this point, Nate's condition seemed like he was recovering. Everyday felt a little less painful, he stopped his bad habit of _'the busier I am, the less I can think.'_

He's allowed himself to feel, talked to people about what's been hurting him. 

_Why on this irradiated earth is the sun shining so brightly? Shouldn't he be sleeping? Where's Danse? His side hurts too._

_"Ah, finally awake?" Mindy kept her voice down. "You're not feverish, so I can probably release you in about three days. But only if you promise to do little to no work."_

_"I, General of the Minutemen, promise to do only light work in order to heal properly."_

_"Okay, jokester. Let's see it, roll a bit to your right."_

_Mindy was a great doctor, quickly redressing his bandages before moving to leave the room. She advised him to get as much sleep as he could now, but he had to know._

_"Hey, Mindy?"_

_She turned to face him again, standing in the doorway. "Yes?"_

_"Where's Danse? Did he get checked as well?" It's been about three days since he slipped off the roof, and Nate had recklessly asked him into battle knowing. What if he had a concussion and he made it worse?_

_"Danse? Hmm, I haven't seen him since we finished with your surgery. But I'm sure he's fine."_

_Something stung a bit, inside his chest to find out that Danse probably worried for him so much he denied himself medical until Nate was okay. Good or bad, he was concerned. In his silence, Mindy took it as an end to the conversation, leaving._

_As Nate pondered where his friend could have went, he noticed a slip of paper on his nightstand. Wait a second—_

_'You're going to hate me for this, I know. But I've come to the conclusion that maybe you need some time. Away from me.' That last sentence was scribbled out, but Nate could still see it. Instead, 'to heal.' was written next to it._

_'My place in life may be with you, but as I took a step back to see the bigger picture, I couldn't see a space for me. It's not your fault at all. But the way I see it, I'm a liability. You've built yourself something, Nate. Despite how you started, you've brought the Minutemen back from the brink, and are helping the Institute create a better future for all mankind._

_People rally behind you because they know, at first glance, you're someone they can trust. You matter to them, and I don't want to be the one to take it away. That raid yesterday was tough, there were a couple casualties, but if that were you? I can barely stand myself now, but if you'd died because you decided some synth was worth more than all of your work?'_

_If Nate had woken up just a couple hours earlier, he'd tell Danse what utter bullshit this note was. Danse was worth everything and more, damn Maxson to eternal suffering for having taught him otherwise._

_'I'm taking a leave. I don't know if I'll come back or how long I'll be gone but please, promise me one thing. That you won't work yourself to death. There are people that care for you, and are more than willing to share the burden.'_

_Reading that last bit made his heart stop in his chest. It took his entire being to not force himself up and out of bed. Danse left?_

"Do you think he left the Commonwealth?" He was sitting across from Piper at the cantina. He was better now, but he still wondered. 

His nightmares were back to as normal as they could be, and they counted it as a win the first time he slept through the night. He wasn’t a walking skeleton either, thanks to Curie and MacCready, who were always insisting he take a break and relax a bit. Nate didn’t want to let Danse down, not when he might never see him again.

"Blue, judging by what I think I know, I'm surprised he stayed away this long," is all she replies as she stirs her fork through her soup. 

"What do you mean?" 

He sees something like hesitation in her body language, before she slowly shakes her head and puts down her fork. She stares at him, eyes scanning his face. 

"I don't know if he knew it, but he loves you," Piper was a reporter, she was supposed to know the gossip, even if the people involved didn't exactly have a full view of the situation. 

"He— what?" Nate's shock was predicted. With how much he was working, she's not surprised to see he didn't know. 

"He loves you," she punctuated each word with a loud tap on the table. "And you love him." 

"What do you mean?" Piper let out the loudest sigh of her life. Some people, despite how good they are, didn't think they deserved what they wanted. Nate hid his doubt behind a wall of obliviousness. Danse shrouded his with fear of rejection. 

"I mean it in every sense of the word, Blue. And that's rare," if operable cameras were still a thing above ground, she'd love to take a picture of his face as he processed it all. 

_"If you live through this, maybe I’ll take you up on the offer."_

Said in the midst of an ending battle, the words didn't entirely leave him, after all this time. Danse said it himself. And now Nate owed him a date. Maybe he could use this?

Sitting up from his seat, he said hurried goodbyes to Piper before leaving to find Preston. 

"Hey, Preston?"

"Yes, General? Is there something you need?" 

"The Brotherhood abandoned the Cambridge Police Station a few months ago, right?" 

"As far as our intel serves, yes, they did." 

"Okay, thanks. I'm going to head out in a bit. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon at the latest." 

Before long, he found himself standing in front of the dilapidated building, walls still fortifying it. No Brotherhood in sight. For a second he recalled how he’d been venturing with Dogmeat when his Pipboy signaled him about a new station available. _If he hadn’t crossed paths with Danse that day, would things be different?_

Shaking his head, he walked inside, making his way to the broadcast tower on top, and began recording. 

_"Danse, I hope you can hear this. You can bet your ass I hate you for what you did, but I love you more. You and I have a date, and you said you always keep your word. I'll be waiting."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cringy? Who cares. As much as I live for happy endings, we can’t always have it. So enjoy this commercial break. Who knows, maybe the show will be renewed for a new season?


End file.
